Meeting Fate
by M. of the Mountains
Summary: Spoiler Alert: Takes place during episode 5x13. Now that Arthur knows the truth, Merlin knows that he cannot let him die. With all odds against him, Merlin must find a way to save his friend and king, if there IS a way to stop the blade from reaching his heart. Will all that he has worked for be in vain? Includes choice encounters with spirits of Merlin's loved ones and foes alike.
1. The End of the Beginning

Author's Note: _This takes place during the finale... Let's just say I was given no choice but to write my own alternate ending to the one which the writers provided; I was... emotionally compromised by their choices, and needed some solace in these trying times._

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"I want to say something–I've never said before–" Arthur's words were laced with tension, as Merlin could see only too easily; the wound, Merlin knew, was definitely not getting any better. Well, that was an understatement; more accurately, Arthur was close to death. Closer than he had ever been before, and that was saying something.

"Shh, don't speak," Merlin interrupted his friend, his closest friend, before he could continue. Arthur, ignoring the interruption as he had ignored most of Merlin's attempts to save his strength during the time since the battle, finished his sentence with a great deal of effort.

"–thank you. For all that you've done for– for Camelot, and–" Arthur had to stop as he choked on a sudden lack of oxygen. He knew his moments were numbered; perhaps Merlin in his idiocy refused to admit that Arthur would die, but Arthur himself knew better. He was on his deathbed, and the sooner Merlin let him speak, the sooner he could die in peace. "And for– for me– and the kingdom that you have helped me to build."

"You would have done it without me."

"Maybe." Arthur smiled wryly, almost forgetting his pain. Merlin had always been there for him, and he knew that he definitely wouldn't be the same person had Merlin not been there to make him see sense and understand the reality of strange situations… Merlin might think that he wasn't necessary for the future of Camelot, but he was much more than just a servant. Not that Arthur didn't take advantage of the ability to threaten Merlin with the stocks if he didn't listen, but that was just a pretense, really, and they both knew it.

"Arthur!" Merlin's shout startled his eyes open again. "Don't–I can't lose you. I won't." Arthur rested his gaze on the man who had changed him so much, and he smiled grimly.

"Let me go. It's too late, Merlin. Let it go." Merlin shook his head, and Arthur saw his eyes flash gold momentarily. What had he done now? Then, as Arthur's eyes started to close again, he discovered that his eyes wouldn't close. "_Mer_lin!"

"I told you, I won't lose you." Arthur saw the resolve building in Merlin's eyes, and as he tried to shake his head, Merlin stopped him with a gentle but firm hand on his forehead. "You're too important, Arthur. Camelot will not survive without you," he continued, his eyes burning not with magic but with a belief as strong as magic itself. "And I will not let Camelot fall."

"What… are you doing…" Arthur's voice was weakening even more, he could hear it fading more and more rapidly.

"Don't speak, Arthur."

"Since when… have I listened to you… I'm the king…"

"That doesn't stop me from telling you what to do, Arthur, you know that." Merlin shook his head, smiling through his tears. Arthur tried once again to close his eyes, even knowing that he might never open them again. Due to Merlin's spell, he failed, as his friend gave him a look. "And you know that you do listen to me, so I'm telling you now: don't give in."

"Just let– let me go," Arthur sighed, frowning. "It's over, Merlin."

"That was an order." Merlin's eyes glinted dangerously, and Arthur was almost frightened, although not for his own safety. Now that he knew that Merlin had magic – although he still couldn't believe it; _Merlin_ of all people– he could see that all those lies had only barely managed to cover up the extent of Merlin's power. Before Arthur could respond to Merlin's words, however, he saw the other man throw his head back, and roar out to the heavens above, "O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"

"What– what was – that?" Arthur stammered out, confused but still so very tired. He just wanted to close his eyes, and he could feel the pain in his chest moving closer to his heart by the minute. But what was Merlin speaking? His voice had been so different, almost unhuman.

"Dragontongue," Merlin answered, his expression changing as he remembered who was watching him. His face seemed to quiver, as he tried to determine how much he could tell his friend and king.

"Where," Arthur muttered, "did _you _learn that…" The edges of Merlin's mouth twitched in response.

"From an old friend." Before Arthur could respond, he heard a rush of air, and saw the few trees in his line of vision whip about as if a hurricane had suddenly come to the clearing. "My friend, you know I would not have called you had there been – any other way," Merlin called, his voice faltering only once. He stood shakily, gently lowering Arthur's head onto the soft grass, to face what Arthur then knew must have been the Great Dragon.

"Young warlock, some follow their destinies, others have their path laid out for them from the beginning of time itself. It is Arthur's time, Merlin. Let him go." Kilgharrah's voice was weary, but Arthur could tell that his words were thought out much in advance. The dragon was telling the truth, and Arthur agreed, although he could not speak loudly enough to voice his agreement.

"He's my– friend," Merlin choked, his eyes burning with sorrow and rage. "I can't lose him."

"You can and you must, young warlock. But Arthur is not just a king, he is the Once and Future King; when Albion needs him most, he will return to save his people once again." The Once and Future King? Arthur had heard those words before, and suddenly everything seemed to fit. Deep in his childhood, Gaius had once spoken of a king who would unite the Five Kingdoms to become the greatest ruler of all time, and the wise advisor who ruled by his side. In those days, Gaius had described this legendary duo as a myth, a prophecy which might one day come true under the right circumstances, but young Arthur had seen the belief shining in the old physician's eyes, and it had been apparent even then that this myth would one day be a reality. Arthur hated to imagine himself as a legendary ruler, but he could see in an instant that that might be the reason for Merlin's undying faith in him. Perhaps he was the king of prophecy; after all, dragons didn't lie, did they?

"I have failed, Kilgharrah. I've failed him." Merlin interrupted Arthur's thoughts, and he looked up as best as he could, to see his friend toying with a small ring on his finger, the tears replaced by a grim resolve. "I can't let this happen."

"Young warlock, what is it that you intend to do?" Kilgharrah's rumbling tones startled Arthur, as he had been attempting to close his eyes yet again.

"He will not die," Merlin whispered. "I will do whatever it takes, but he will not die."

"I ask again, young warlock: _what _will you do?"

"He must not die." Merlin whispered again, mostly to himself. Arthur wished he could assure him that that was not true, that he deserved to die after all he had done, but his voice refused to cooperate. He took a deep breath, then shuddered and stiffened as he felt something stir directly under his heart. He couldn't help the sudden whimper that escaped him. "Arthur, no!" He hadn't noticed that Merlin was watching him, but he must have been monitoring his every movement, for when Arthur made that small noise of discomfort, Merlin cried out as well. "Kilgharrah–" Merlin seemed reluctant to finish. "I have one last favor to ask."

"What is it, young warlock?"

"Take us to Avalon."

"You know he will not survive the journey," the dragon sighed, gesturing with a tired claw to the young king.

"Kilgharrah… I ask you this knowing the consequences. You know I would not have summoned you had there not been great necessity." Merlin's eyes glinted again, and Arthur through his opened eyes could see the resolve harden inside the man he regarded as his closest and most loyal friend. Yes, Merlin had lied, but it had been with good reason; Arthur could see that now. He struggled to raise his head, and spoke cautiously to his friend.

"Merlin…"

"Arthur– how – how much… did Gaius tell you?"

"The dragon."

"He told you of him?"

"Yes, Merlin." Arthur's words were faint, but Merlin could hear the smile in his voice.

"Then, let us go." With those words, Merlin glanced at Kilgharrah. The dragon sighed, but inclined his head, respecting the Dragonlord's final request of him. "One last time, Kilgharrah?"

"Young warlock, let us fly together for the last time… I will miss you." Merlin clenched his jaw tightly before releasing it with a sigh.

"And I you." At last, Merlin stepped away from Arthur, his eyes glinting as he whispered, "Áreccep." Arthur's eyes widened as he felt the ground beneath him disappear and his body twist to a sitting position. He could see the land beneath him, and Merlin standing ten feet beneath him, maneuvering Arthur onto the dragon's back.


	2. A Final Farewell

_Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and follows! I'm starting to become obsessed with continuing this story... hence the second chapter in one day. Pity I can't spend all my days writing, reading, and baking like I did today, but enough chatter. More to come soon! _

Merlin frowned as he cast the spell to lift Arthur up onto Kilgharrah's back. He knew that Arthur still wasn't used to his magic, and there was no way that Arthur would entirely forgive him for lying about the dragon's death, but without Kilgharrah's help, Arthur wouldn't be around to do any forgiving in the first place. "Áreccep," he whispered, eyes glinting gold as Arthur rose into the air and onto the dragon's back. Merlin could see Arthur's discomfort, especially as Merlin's magic took hold and Arthur found his head supported in a fully upright position.

"Young warlock, shall we?" Merlin broke his gaze from Arthur, glanced at Kilgharrah, and nodded once, his hidden rage smoldering in his heart. He was not mad at Arthur, or any one person in particular; he was rather angry at himself… for allowing Morgana to trap him, for being unable to heal Arthur, for demanding that the dragon act as common transportation when he was close to death himself; Merlin knew that he had not made the best choices. There were better options, more responsible decisions... but he had panicked, and was running out of time. Reminded of the lack of time on his hands, Merlin straightened his shoulders, shaking off the emotions troubling him. He would support Arthur no matter the consequences, and they had only a few mere minutes to save him.

"Ready," Merlin answered, climbing up behind Arthur on the dragon's back. He looked at the man in front of him, and worry creased his brow as he saw just how close Arthur was to death. He had minutes, if not less. "Hurry, Kilgharrah… we're running out of time."

"We have been out of time already, young warlock," Kilgharrah replied. "But I will not dally." With that, the dragon took off, flying towards the isle at the center of the lake: Avalon.

"Arthur?" Merlin's short hair rippled in the air currents, but his expression was anything but fluid. His jaw was tense, and he could feel his own anxiety leaking out, not even trying to conceal it. That anxiety doubled when he heard no response from his friend. "_Arthur_!" The king wasn't moving, but that was no surprise, considering the spell Merlin had used on him… but the lack of any response whatsoever made Merlin even more determined than he already was to thwart death and, perhaps, destiny. "No. No– please don't leave me – just a few more seconds… Arthur, don't give up now!" The tears streaming down his face were blown away by the wind as Kilgharrah began to descend; they were above the lake now, and nearly to the land of Avalon. Merlin straightened, reaching forward to clasp his hand on Arthur's shoulder for support. He wasn't entirely sure if he intended to be comforting or comforted, but he could feel Arthur relax the slightest bit, and he knew that they both needed to borrow strength from each other.

"If you intend what I know you must," Kilgharrah called back over his shoulder, "go east to the center of the isle. There, you will find a stream and an ancient altar… it is there that you will meet the Sidhe." Merlin gave the dragon a sad smile, even though he knew that it would go unnoticed. His destiny had always been foretold, had it not? He and Arthur were two sides of the same coin, as Kilgharrah himself had told him, and both the dragon and the warlock knew that either side would sacrifice themself for the other.

"What will I do without you?" Merlin spoke softly, knowing that the dragon would hear his response however quietly he spoke.

"I know that I cannot convince you otherwise, young warlock, but know that if I could, I would try. The Sidhe are not easy to negotiate with." After these last words, Kilgharrah landed in a small clearing, near the end of the island. The land of Avalon was a mystical place, and Merlin could feel the magic pulsating from its core. It seeped into the center of his consciousness in a matter of seconds, replenishing his reserves of strength. Refreshed, he slid off of Kilgharrah's back, carefully moving around Arthur without touching him so as not to hurt him further. Once on the ground, Merlin looked at Kilgharrah, his piercing eyes full of a sorrow and maturity beyond his years, which he had exhibited on so many occasions in the dragon's presence. With a flash of eyes, he quickly lifted Arthur into the air and set him on the grass, seeing that he was nearly gone. Merlin tried to hurry, but before he could leave to save his friend, he knew that he had one last farewell to say.

"Farewell…. my friend," Merlin clenched his jaw, struggling to speak his mind clearly. He spoke in the tongue of the dragons an ancient blessing which came from the traditions of the culture which now faced extinction: "Μyopeí te pwra tec slampémouv we éxete umpíoel."

"Thank you, young warlock," Kilgharrah inclined his head, accepting the blessing knowing that his death was not long in coming. Merlin knew this as well, and he only hoped that he had not worsened the dragon's fate in asking this final favor. "And good luck to you." Merlin nodded, unable to think about the loss of the Great Dragon and still continue on to negotiate with the Sidhe. However, negotiating was not his intention at all; Merlin had a plan much more likely to succeed than complicated negotiating.

"Arthur?" As Merlin ran to his friend, Kilgharrah's ancient mouth curved upwards in a sorrowful smile. Then, the dragon left as suddenly as he had come, knowing that he would likely never see the young Dragonlord who had become so close to his heart ever again. A pang of grief went through the old dragon, as he realized that the young warlock would most likely never be able to save his king. Arthur's destiny had been written since the beginning of time, and his time of death was nearly upon him.

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Translation:

Μyopeí te pwra tec slampémouv we éxete umpíoel: May the light of the stars shine as you pass.


	3. Beyond the Veil

_Author's Note: Thank you for the lovely reviews! Ah, if only I had no encounters with this strange thing called life, and could spend my days locked in my room with candle and ink to crank out chapter after chapter, but unfortunately, it doesn't quite work that way. I hope to update soon!_

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"Arthur?" He heard Merlin's voice, and could see his friend running towards him, but it was as if he was in a separate dimension. Arthur could make out Merlin's black hair and red neckerchief, but not much else; everything was blurred. His thoughts, too, were blurry and clouded, with little distinctness except for a few emotions that seemed to take over his entire being.

Regret, at leaving behind Merlin and Gwen; sorrow for the deaths of Morgana, Mordred, and all the others who had fallen on the fields of Camlann; and pity, for Merlin. His friend, as he was now discovering, had done far too much over the years since he had come to Camelot; from what Gaius had told Arthur, Merlin was the most powerful sorcerer–warlock– to walk the earth, and yet he had sacrificed his personal comfort for Arthur time and time again. Arthur found it hard to imagine that someone so– so _scrawny_, for lack of a better word, could be a powerful warlock… but then, Merlin had never quite seemed as weak as he looked. Indeed, he didn't look quite as weak these days in the first place– perhaps all the food he stole from Arthur's plate was finally paying off.

"Merlin," he said, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It sounded otherworldly and distant, unlike anything he had ever said before. Of course, Arthur remembered, he _was _dying; that just might be the reason for the detachment he was going through.

"I know what you're thinking, and you're not going to die! I won't let you, Arthur… I have a plan."

Arthur knew what he wanted to say… _a plan, Merlin? Since when have your plans ever worked out? _But his heart had other opinions on the matter; before he could even open his mouth, he felt something sinking in his chest. He tried to tilt his head, blinked, and realized that Merlin's spell on him was gone: he could at last close his eyes. _At last, _he thought. _About time I got some rest… _

"Ic ábene þé, Sidhe. Áspricaþ eac mé!" What was Merlin doing now? Arthur watched as his friend's eyes glowed gold, although he could barely make out the shape of Merlin's face.

A strangely high-pitched whistle filled the air, piercing the stillness with dagger-like precision. Arthur was sorely tempted to cover his ears, but he knew that wasting his few minutes of precious strength would be a dreadful idea. Merlin would probably kill him, if not for the fact that he would be dead in a matter of moments…

"You wish to speak with us, _Emrys_?" Arthur heard the voice, scathing and filled with vengeful tones, without seeing its owner.

"I do." Merlin seemed to ignore the harsh notes of the voice. He had always been one to see the best in people, as Arthur knew only too well. Although, was it a person he was speaking to? Arthur didn't have the strength to check, but at this point, he realized, Merlin could be speaking to anything and anyone. It seemed the servant had his own, vast network of connections… perhaps even more powerful than those in Arthur's circles. "You know why I have come, Sidhe, and you know what I will ask."

"Perhaps... perhaps not. What is it that you intend,_ lord_?" Arthur could hear Merlin sigh, and immediately could picture his expression at the title. Merlin had never been one for proper respect, he thought wryly.

"The Once and Future King is on his deathbed. He cannot be allowed to leave this world."

"You know that his destiny is complete, and yet you wish to fight fate itself?" The Sidhe seemed to laugh as it spoke, reveling in the powerful warlock's discomfort.

"… I have no other choice. He must– he must live. Surely you see that?" Arthur's mouth twitched. If the Sidhe would see anything, it was surely the opposite, but Merlin had always been stubborn.

"We see _nothing _of the kind, Emrys. Why should we help you thwart your destiny? He will return, you know this."

"It won't be the same… He won't– be _him_." At this point, Arthur could hear Merlin losing his resolve. Would his friend finally let him die in peace? Perhaps the Sidhe were not as evil as Gaius had made them out to be in his childhood lessons.

"He wants you to kill him," the Sidhe answered, smirking. "Will you not obey your king, Emrys?" Arthur, watching from beyond the veil that seemed to now separate him from the material world, wanted to laugh. Obviously, the Sidhe had never interacted much with Merlin– otherwise, they would know that he _never _obeyed Arthur. But Merlin had lost his remaining patience, knowing that Arthur was about to pass beyond the point of no return.

"_Will _you do as I ask?" Rather than shouting, Merlin simply lowered his voice, nearly to a whisper. His normally cheerful voice was steady and sorrowful, so somber it seemed as if Death himself had taken refuge inside his vocal chords. "Or –must I do it myself?"

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Translation:

_Ic ábene þé, Sidhe. Áspricaþ eac mé! : I summon thee, Sidhe. Speak with me!_

Author's Note: I am most definitely looking forward to the next chapter... some rather magical things are about to happen, in both the literal and figurative meaning of the word.


	4. Surprise Visitors

_Author's Note: Goodness, this was a fun one. Thanks for the reviews! More, please, more! I'm very much hoping for feedback on this chapter... some parts seemed rather far-fetched to me, but perhaps I am mistaken. On a sidenote, Old English is a fascinating language! _

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Merlin was tired of the Sidhe's toying. This had gone on long enough, and Arthur was getting weaker by the second… Merlin could see his friend's eyes glazing over, and it was obvious that Arthur had already lost the will to fight for life. "_Will _you do as I ask?" He said quietly, his words weighted and weary. "Or – must I do it myself?"

"_We_ will not help you, Emrys. You have taken one too many from our number, and this we cannot forgive. You may be destined to bring about the dawning of an era of hope and understanding for humans, but we have no cares in the human world."

"So be it," Merlin answered coldly. His patience had already worn thin, and he had never truly expected the Sidhe to agree to his offer. What was the life of a servant, after all, in return for that of a king? _Not much,_ Merlin thought. _Not much. _

With nothing left to say to the Sidhe, he closed his eyes, recognizing the path he was now forced to take. Would his magic be powerful enough to save Arthur, so close to death? Merlin knew that he was magic, in the simplest meaning of the phrase; his moments in the Crystal Cave during the battle had showed him things about himself which he would never have imagined. But, the question was, was magic itself strong enough to break the power of a sword forged in a _dragon's_ breath? There was only one way to find out.

He opened his eyes, feeling the magic coursing through his veins even more distinctly than usual. Was it some trick of his mind, or was it magic itself that seemed to pulse through his veins? No matter. Merlin lifted his eyes, and turned his head to gaze at Arthur, ignoring the Sidhe still hovering in front of him. "O mé drýcræft, ic ásende þé butan mé bánsele!" His words began quietly, building along with his emotions as he finally gave voice to his wishes. By the end of the spell, he was shouting; this was not magic similar to anything he had ever done before. This was pure power – speaking in the language of the Old Religion, he demanded that his magic leave him for another being. "Ic álætee mé bócriht æt þé; áfær æt sé æðeling sæl ond tóweardnes!"

Merlin shook with the power building in his veins. His jaw clenched as the magic that was his life-blood seemed to gather in his chest– in his heart. In one moment, as Merlin had expected, the magic flung itself out of his body, lighting him up like – _Well, _Merlin thought wryly,_ like_ _an angel._ He knew he was anything but an angel; he had had his share of darkness. It was a strange sensation for Merlin– as if all of his power were enveloping him in a blanket of nerves. He felt the heartbeat of the Earth, the movement of the stars and sun… he could sense the life-forces of every spirit in Avalon, from the smallest mouse to the greatest Dragon.

And, even stranger, he could identify them. Merlin felt the rush of power as he broke his gaze away from Arthur in awe, recognizing his father's spirit, and Morgana's, and Mordred's. These spirits would not hurt him, he was certain of that, but the sheer power of the moment moved him beyond the capabilities of human consciousness. Like the time in the Crystal Cave, this experience both delighted and terrified Merlin.

Then, for a brief instant, he_ saw_ them, all those who had died at his hand or for him… Uther, Will, Gwen's father, Balinor, Morgana, Mordred, and Lancelot, along with so many others. _Too many, _he realized. _What have I done? _Their shadowy forms shone blue, and he realized that these were indeed the true spirits of his friends and enemies. Although, he noticed with a sudden start, Morgana was smiling– not cruelly, as she had done so frequently in the past few years, but her own smile, the smile of her years as Uther's ward. Perhaps her true spirit had not been as evil as she wanted it to be.

The sight of Lancelot nearly broke his heart. Of all those he had lost, Lancelot's death still hurt the most: his best friend, the one who had supported him despite his magic and sacrificed himself that Merlin would live. He almost turned away, almost pulled the magic back inside himself to escape this reminder of the sacrifices made for him and by him… but Arthur. Arthur was the reason he was doing this, and Arthur would not be allowed to die, not if Merlin could help it. And, as he had realized from the moment that Arthur had begun to fade, there was a chance – a very slight one, but a chance nonetheless – that he could.

He drew a deep breath, looking the spirit of Lancelot in the eye before crying out his final request. "In the name of the Old Religion and the name of Emrys, I demand that you restore Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King!" His words sounded hollow even to him: an empty recitation of hallowed words and titles.

To his surprise, Lancelot grinned at him. The same old grin, the same eyes, the same face that had smiled at him from so many dreams since his passing… although a fair bit bluer than he had been in life. "Merlin, you need not demand such a thing," the spirit of Lancelot chuckled. "All you have to do is ask."

Morgana laughed along with him, her beautiful smile and bubbly laughter still charming Merlin as it had done when he was only a boy. "Did you think that we would refuse you?" He watched, entranced, as her eyes twinkled with a levity that had not been present there for many a year. "Merlin…"

"Morgana." He sighed, confused. Was she truly the same as she had been in the early days of his time in Camelot? It seemed impossible.

"I _am _sorry," she said simply, her laughter fading. "I was… not myself."

Merlin's lips twitched upwards in a sad imitation of a smile. "How many have died because of you, Morgana? And all because you were _not yourself_…"

"Merlin… I…"

His gaze hardened. "There can be no way for you to redeem yourself, Morgana. Too much blood has been shed." Merlin's tone was dangerously light, almost daring her to say something against him, to show her true self once and for all.

"My son." Balinor's voice cut through Merlin's distrust, and he turned his gaze upon the father he had known for so little time. "Do not harden your heart against the fallen… even those who seem beyond redemption can make amends."

"… Father?" Merlin's voice broke in his surprise. Surely his father, of all people, would understand his decision to refuse Morgana forgiveness?

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Translation:

_O mé drýcræft, ic ásende þé butan mé bánsele! Ic álætee mé bócrihtæt þé; áfær æt sé æðeling sæl ond tóweardnes! : Oh my magic, I send thee from my body! I renounce my right to thee; go to the Once and Future King!_


	5. Confessions

_A.N.: Feedback would be greatly appreciated; I had quite a difficult time with this one. I apologize for any plot-holes, as well as for the extensive use of italics... annoying though it may be, it _is_ the easiest way to show a flashback. (For me, at least.) Thank you so much for the continued reviews and support! I hope to update again soon– which could be any time from in a few hours to in a few days._

_Update: I believe Morgana's realization that she has killed unnecessarily may be slightly more believable now; I added in visions of the past for her. Hope this is better!_

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Balinor smiled ruefully at the son he had known for such a short time. "Merlin."

"Morgana… does not deserve forgiveness." Merlin's expression was incredulous, and Balinor would have laughed, had the situation not been so grave. No, it would not do to laugh at his son's beliefs, however stubborn and foolish they might be. Merlin was vastly powerful, but he was certainly not always right.

"Does she not? Morgana deserves forgiveness as much as any fallen– warrior." Balinor knew that his choice of words were not the best, not for convincing Merlin. His son had never been a warrior, not when Balinor had died for him in the short battle against the soldiers, nor in the months and years following. Yes, Balinor had been watching his son from beyond the grave, alongside his fellow spirits. He was not the only one, after all, who still had interest in the dealings of the living.

"Morgana is no fallen warrior," Merlin responded, his voice frosting over. The sound of it nearly sent chills down Balinor's spine; his son had certainly grown up since they had last met in the land of the living. "She has killed more than any warrior, has– injured– Arthur…"

"Be that as it may, my son, she still deserves a chance." Balinor glanced at the spirit of the sorceress, sighing. He could see that she regretted her actions; her reunion with Uther had certainly proven that. Perhaps, however, it was not Uther but Ygraine who had brought about this change in the soul of Morgana. Balinor remembered the conversation he had witnessed when Morgana's soul had first fled her body…

_"Sister." Morgana's old, beautiful smile had returned. No trace of cruelty distorted her lovely face now; in death, it seemed her true spirit had returned to the form it had held in its time of innocence. _

_"Morgana. How good it is, to see you again…" Morgause tilted her head, a smile held back from her lips. Her eyes, as darkened as they had been in life, seemed to hold Morgana's for a brief instant; then, she looked away. "And how you have changed."_

_"For the better, I hope…" Morgana still hoped for the love and care of her elder sister, but the gaze Morgause had shared with her disconcerted her. Was Morgause changed as well? It certainly seemed it._

_"Morgana, there are things you should know… things I should have told you. Yes, you have changed, my sister, and I freely admit that that was my doing… but those changes should not have happened. It was not meant to be–" Morgana interrupted Morgause's seeming confession. _

_"What have you not told me?" She laughed, confused. "I have done exactly as you always taught me– to rid the world of the Pendragons, once and for all. One day soon, Guinevere will fall as well, and the world that –_my brother_– sought to create will never come to be!" Morgause noted her sister's reluctance at referring to Arthur, sighing. _

_"It was not Uther's fault that you were not told of your parentage," she replied, frowning slightly. "It was mine. I…. enchanted him…"_

_"But–" It made sense, and Morgause could see her sister's expression change from one of disbelief to one of horror. "Why?"_

_"It suited my… purposes."_

_"You wanted me to kill Uther, I know that." Morgana looked away from her sister, frowning. Morgause's mouth twitched._

_"He is not evil, you know." _

_"He killed so many people... so many of our kind…" Morgana shook her head, unable to accept the truth. _

_"He refused to accept the truth," A new voice floated out of the mist, followed shortly after by a woman, tall and beautiful. Her blonde hair seemed almost to float around her, held in place by the elegant tiara upon her brow. "Yes, Morgana. I'm sure you can imagine who I am."_

_"Ygraine," Morgana breathed, shocked by the sight of her brother's mother– the reason for the Great Purge and all that had followed. It was difficult for Morgana to believe that the gentle queen's death had been the cause of so much suffering. _

_"Indeed. Morgana, you were not my daughter… but I did not blame Uther for your birth. Your mother was – well…" Ygraine moved closer to the sisters, smiling wryly. "Extremely beautiful. And even kings make mistakes…"_

_"Mistakes?" Morgana raised her brows at the term. _

_"Uther knew that he should not have given in to Vivienne's temptations. He told me what had happened the moment he returned to my side…. and was ashamed. He demanded, ever faithful to me, that I ensure that he did not ever stray from me again. He did not know, then, that a child would be born. When you were born, he refused at first to believe that you were his… when he realized the truth, he wanted instantly to go to you, take you in under his wing. I stopped him; oh, that I had not! But my pride forbade it, and I kept him from you. It was my pride that kept him from claiming you as his." With her confession, Ygraine's spirit seemed to lighten, relieved of a great burden. _

_"But– Uther…" Morgana was more confused than she had ever been in all of her existence. Ygraine's eyes shone._

_"Morgana, if only you had been my daughter. If only my pride did not keep your father from you. If only, if only…" Ygraine smiled bitterly, her beautiful blue eyes glazing over with visions of what could have been. "So many things would have been different… We would all have been happy, and Camelot would have endured forever. I swear it to you, Morgana, upon my son, that it was my fault and mine alone that your father refused to reveal the truth to you."  
"We were wrong to kill your son," Morgana turned to her sister in shock; surprised at what she was hearing. Morgause had always been the one to demand the death of Arthur Pendragon; why now was she showing such regret? _

_"I forgive you," the queen answered, smiling gently. "Of course, for Arthur is not dead, and it seems unlikely that he will ever be… if the current events are anything to go by." With that, the queen turned to leave, floating back towards the other side of the meadow from the two sisters. _

_"Wait," Morgana whispered, thinking furiously as she tried to determine right from wrong. "Ygraine." Confused though she was, her thoughts had begun to walk a different path; had the deaths caused by her actions been all for naught? Surely Arthur deserved to die, just as Uther had; like father, like son– and Uther had been anything but a good man. Hearing Ygraine's words, however, had startled her. The queen blamed herself– but was she merely attempting to carry out her husband's will? Nothing seemed certain to Morgana anymore. She sank to the ground slowly, lost in thought; after a few moments of staring into space, her eyes closed as she tried to see what had really happened. She had never used her powers as a Seer to glimpse the past before, but she knew it must be possible… and she knew that this confusion and clouded truth was just too much. _

_Concentrating, she whispered, her words gradually growing louder, "__Ácýðe mé __géomann Uther Pendragon bæftan __mé ácennednes!" By the end of the spell, she was nearly shouting, and Morgause watched on nervously as her sister seemed to collapse in a faint. On Morgana's part, scenes were flashing through her mind– tinged with the slight aura of golden magic that told her they were not current events. _

_Without that, she would surely have gone mad with the power of the things she witnessed: Uther, hearing of her birth and rushing to visit her mother; Ygraine calling the guards to stop him, and having them bring him to their queen; Uther, waiting anxiously for news that Morgana was well; him sending gifts on each of Morgana's birthdays; her mother destroying each gift before Morgana could see it. _

_"He tried?" She didn't hear herself whisper, but Morgause did, and realizing that her sister was beginning to understand the truth, she smiled bitterly. _

_"Indeed," the older daughter of Vivienne said quietly, her hatred of the man appeased. "He did try, my sister."_

_Morgana, unhearing, continued to See. Uther, going to Nimueh for help to conceive a child by Ygraine; his whispered acknowledgement of the risks such a task presented; Nimueh, watching as Arthur was born, then saying a final spell; Uther's confusion at the purpose of the spell slowly disappearing as he saw Ygraine's eyes close, and her chest stop moving. Morgana watched as Uther refused to believe that Ygraine was dead, stroking her hair and whispering words of love; she saw his stunned realization that Nimueh had killed his love, betrayal turning to rage, and then hatred in his mind. His hatred expanding; issuing his first decree that magic was evil and had killed his beloved wife; the decree that begun the Great Purge… and the bloodshed that followed. Her arrival in Camelot; Uther's immediate attachment to her blossoming from the moment he laid eyes upon her; Morgause, in a distant cavern, enchanting him to hide his identity from his daughter; his order that Gaius tell no one of her parentage, in an attempt to save her from gossip and his own incompetence._

_Her first attempt to kill her father– how relieved he had been when she saved him! Uther's refusal to believe Morgana would betray him, even after the signs were apparent to every other occupant of the castle. _

_Her eyes watered as she watched Uther die, again; seeing how haggard he had become after her betrayal. He had died for Arthur, that was certain, but had his other child been on his mind in his last moments? Morgana thought she could see the expression he had always reserved for her as he staggered and fell; perhaps he had not been as evil as he had seemed. Did Uther deserve more credit than Morgana had given him? She closed her eyes, succumbing to the darkness that threatened her slender grasp on sanity. Too many thoughts… too many uncertainties._

_"Sister!" Morgause's cry roused her in moments, but as Morgana tried to stand, she found that she could not handle the emotions that ran through her head. _

_"So much death… she said softly, warm tears pouring down her cheeks. "All my doing..."_

* * *

Translation:

Ácýðe mé géomann Uther Pendragon, bæftan mé ácennednes! : Show me the man Uther Pendragon in the past, after my birth!


	6. A Mess of Emotions

__Author's Note: My apologies, once again, for the font... italics are by far the easiest way to show flashbacks, that I can find. Feedback on the plot continuity, and the chapter in general, would be greatly appreciated, as always! Thank you to those of you who keep reviewing– your words convince me to keep writing.

* * *

_Balinor had smiled, then, at Morgana's repent for the deaths she had caused. No, it was not a happy moment, but watching evil give in to the forces of light was certainly a cause for celebration. After witnessing such a beautiful event, the old Dragonlord had sighed. _

_Turning to leave his usual resting place, a large boulder at the edge of the forest, Balinor heard faint spoken words coming from behind him. "I'm sorry," a woman's voice said, sorrowfully. "I am truly sorry, Balin."_

_"Who is that?" He demanded of the woods behind him, glancing warily around his boulder. "Who speaks?" He had not been called by that name in many a year– perhaps since the days when he had been young… and in love. Who would speak to him in such a familiar manner?_

_"It is I, Ygraine." The queen stepped into his sight, from where she had, presumably, been waiting for him. "I wish I had spoken to you sooner… you have been here for months by now, I know. Times are changing now, and I have apologies to make." She was nearly the same as he remembered, as beautiful as ever, and yet her gentle curls held no enchantment for him– they had never been anything more than friends. _

_"Ygraine." Balinor nodded coolly at the best friend of the woman he had loved, thankful that Hunith had not yet joined her in this realm of the dead. Avalon was a perfect world, that was true, but the land of the living was still superior in some ways, and Balinor hoped that his beloved would enjoy that world for as long as possible. _

_"Balin– I am so sorry… for you and your son." Ygraine's head bowed, repressing the powerful emotions she had been trained as a young woman not to show. He watched as a tear fell to the ground– then, he glanced again at his queen, and roughly spoke before she could say anything more._

_"Don't be– It has nothing to do with you, regardless." She looked up at him, shocked. Her hands clenched at her sides, clasping the deep purple material of her gown even tighter. _

_"Do not think that you can ignore my apology with your usual bluster," she said quietly, blinking away her tears in an instant. "I am still your queen, Balin– dead or alive." Balinor, who had been toying with his staff, looked back at her blankly. "Yes?" _

_"Of course... That's where Arthur gets it from." _

_Ygraine raised her delicate brows at her old friend. "To what are you referring?" _

_"That."_

_"Which is? I demand that you tell me."_

_"Exactly."_

_"Balin!" The Dragonlord smirked, knowing that he could not hold out forever. Being a distant cousin of Uther, and having been raised in the same household as Ygraine, he was afforded certain privileges, including the right to ignore his friend's demands… but he was certain that Ygraine would call her husband for support, as she was prone to forgetfulness– and the two cousins had not gotten along in many years. Their relationship had worsened dreadfully after Uther had…. Killed off Dragonlords and dragons alike, and tricked Balinor into trapping Kilgharrah. He would never forgive the man for that; he barely forgave the world until his son had come into his life suddenly, demanding that he return to Camelot. _

_"Like mother, like son, it would seem… at least, in terms of arrogance." Taking the insult in stride, the queen's face contorted in an evil smile of her own. _

_"And like father, like son, it would seem… in terms of rudeness and foolishness." Balinor glared at his friend, his face resuming the position it had taken over the past few decades all too naturally: a grimace. _

_"Foolishness? Merlin is no fool, my queen." _

_"You admit, then, that you are?"_

_"I admit nothing. I merely resign myself to my fate of being ridiculed by one far superior to myself."_

_"I am glad you acknowledge this fact, at least."_

_"And I that you accept your own arrogance."_

_"I have never denied the arrogance of my son…" Ygraine threw her head back and laughed, happy to be with one she considered almost a brother. The sound of her laughter filled the forest, like all good things seemed to fill Avalon. "However, he has a good heart."_

_"As do you, my lady. And just as my son will always serve yours for his good heart, so have I always served you."_

_"Balin…" The queen sobered at the reminder of their sons' relationship. "I am sorry. You made me forget– but I waited for you in order to apologize. All of this was my doing– mine and Uther's."_

_"Don't mention him," Balinor's lip curled angrily. "I won't listen."_

_"He realizes now…" _

_"Does he?"_

_"It has been so long now, Balin… surely you can forgive him?"_

_"He does not deserve that right." Balinor turned his head down, away from Ygraine's penetrating gaze. She had always managed to convince him to do nearly anything– at least, until Hunith came along– and he was not entirely certain that he could refuse her even now. _

_"Just… believe in him. Not the man he became– the man he was, when we were young."_

_"I won't. Not now, not ever."_

_"Will you accept my apology, then? Or am I too not worth believing in?" Ygraine sighed. "Look at me, Balin. Please." He glanced back at her, still scowling, then looked away again._

_"I meant what I said," he muttered. "It's not your fault, any of it. I understand why you said what you did to Morgana and Morgause… but that wasn't your fault." She stood still, and then laughed wryly, her eyes sparkling for a moment with sorrowful mirth._

_"You always did find the best in people," she replied wistfully. "Why can you not find it in your heart to forgive Uther?"_


	7. Family Revealed

_A.N.: At last, we're out of the flashbacks! For a moment, at least; these are just too fun to write. On a side-note, I know Arthur is hanging on to life only barely, but Merlin has to get through these encounters before he can do anything involving the king! Uther demands his fair share of page-time. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Be that as it may, my son, she still deserves a chance." Merlin, still surprised, watched as his father's spirit glanced away from him to meet the gaze of another- with a jolt, Merlin realized that his father was sharing that glance with the spirit of Queen Ygraine, Arthur's mother. Her gown of dark purple swirled around her with the winds of Avalon as she smiled upon both Dragonlords. _Interesting_, Merlin thought. _It seems that death strips away all disguises… even age. _He had not noticed it before, but his father seemed much younger than he had been at the time of his death– perhaps even by twenty years.

"Merlin," the once-queen said warmly, "As my son has finally realized, you have always been wise– wise enough to save him from countless foes and even more numerous friends. Surely in that wisdom you can understand that forgiveness is deserved by all who repent their crimes?"

"My lady," Merlin answered, formality overtaking him for once. "Morgana is no ordinary criminal– nor a person that I would believe."

"She is not as evil as you think," Ygraine said simply.

"How could she be anything but evil? She has proven herself capable of deadly destruction, my lady." At the warlock's words, Morgana could not help but duck her head, tormented by the memories of lives lost at her hand. _So many_, she thought again. _All of those brave people… _

"Listen to the queen, my son. She's… right." Merlin would have laughed, had the moment not been so serious. His father sounded respectful, but the grudging tone of his statement made it almost comical. Had his father known the queen well before she died?

"Balin, you know I am always right." The queen's expression stiffened. Merlin, knowing Arthur's moods as well as he did, read her face almost immediately– she was teasing, no matter how serious she seemed. _They must have been close, _he thought. _Very close. _

"My lady." Balinor smirked at his queen and inclined his head, unable to hide his laughter.

"Balin– Ygraine– enough. Arthur is on his deathbed and you behave like this?" Merlin's eyes widened as Uther's spirit moved forward, stopping beside the queen. _Uther_ was on first name terms with his father?

"My lord." Ygraine inclined her head, stifling a laugh, with Balinor closely following her example.

"My lord," Balinor, attempting to sober up, gave a slight bow. Uther ignored both of them, looking directly at Merlin.

"Boy. How will you save my son?" Uther's face was younger than Merlin had ever seen it, but it was still creased with worry.

"Merlin." Balinor spoke up before Merlin could answer, and the warlock looked back at his father, barely able to break his gaze from the old king. "His name is Merlin, Uther. Use it." The deceased king looked at Balinor for a moment, raising his brows, then laughed, throwing his head back the way he had when he was young. Merlin was shocked at Uther's behavior; this was the king who had killed nearly every Dragonlord and dragon in the land, as well as countless sorcerers. How had he changed so much? And why was Merlin's father on such good terms with the man he had in life despised beyond belief?

"Merlin, then… my question stands. How will you save my son?" Merlin looked away from the deceased king, staring at the ground for a moment in hopes of finding inspiration.

"I will... I'll…" The ground held no answers for him, and he could not help but ask the king about the other matter puzzling him. "You– and my father–"

"We're cousins, boy– Merlin." Uther glanced at Balinor, watching his reaction. Uther was not yet sure that Balinor had wholly forgiven him– and he was right to not. However, since Balinor had told his son – Merlin – to forgive Morgana, perhaps he had also told _himself_ to forgive her father.

Balinor frowned to himself as he saw Merlin's eyes widen. Had no one told his son of their early ancestor, Lord Ambrosius, and their close ties to the royal family? But, he remembered, Merlin had not known he was a Dragonlord at all until the year prior. Regardless, it was time he knew that he was not _just _a servant.

He turned his head, looking behind him at Uther. His cousin was watching him, almost _anxiously_… was Uther remembering the same moment that Balinor was? Their reunion in Avalon had been far more bitter than sweet, but it had resolved a great deal. Balinor's lips curled upwards in a wry smile, acknowledging his king's concern; he remembered Uther's reaction to Balinor's words in Avalon distinctly.

_Balinor waited apprehensively at the same place he had spoken to Ygraine, or rather she to him. This time, it was not his queen he was meeting– although she would be there. Another wished to speak to him, he knew not who. Perhaps another old friend? _

_Ygraine spoke, appearing through the mists in a single instant. "He's here," she said quietly, almost reluctantly. A man followed her, dressed in robes of red and gold. _

_"No." Balinor saw only the flash of colors before he realized who it was the queen had brought to reunite with him, and turned away before the man was even ten feet away. "Not him, Ygraine. Please." He kept his voice carefully under control, knowing that if he even saw the man– Uther –he would lose his temper. Someone capable of killing thousands instead of simply grieving the loss of his wife was not someone with whom Balinor would speak. There were no excuses for the loss of the dragons, the killing of his kin. Even if they were kin as well. _

_"Balinor," Uther said, equally as quiet as the Dragonlord. "Hear me out." _

_"I will _not_ speak with you, Uther."_

_"Just listen, Balin–"_

_"You drove me out of my home, made me leave the woman I loved, killed my kin, and drove the last race of the Great Three to near extinction… and you think that I would listen to _you? _I had a son, Uther, and I didn't meet him until the day before I died. No– I will not listen to a word from your mouth. Go."_

_"In the name of our common ancestors, Balin, will you just _listen_?_

_"Listen to him, Balin. There is so much wrong between you that could all be fixed. Hear him out– for me?" Ygraine spoke before Balinor could retort, and he bit back a groan. Slowly, he turned, keeping his eyes on the queen. They locked gazes for a moment: hers pleading, his distrusting. Finally, he looked down._

_"Fine," he said, bitterly. "For you, Ygraine." Uther glanced at his wife, who inclined her head as she so frequently did. Your turn, she seemed to say. Convinced, Uther turned back to his old friend, and began to attempt to explain– to explain away decades of destruction, hatred, and murder. _

_"Balin. I know what I have done… what I destroyed. When I first was sent from the world of the living– I watched as my son ruined all I had worked for… and I was angry. But… then…" He looked back at Ygraine, hoping that he was saying the right thing. She raised her brows at him delicately, then turned away, moving farther from the two men. "I saw the things I did wrong. Watching the boy-sorcerer… he was good. He saved Arthur time and time again. Seeing him keep my son safe reminded me of when we were young– when magic was free and the dragons were alive…."_

_"His name is Merlin." Balinor, who had not yet looked Uther in the eye, at last met his gaze. _

_Taken aback, Uther responded. "Very well," he said. "He has saved my son so many times…"_

_"He is my son." Balinor's lips twitched at the surprise in his king's eyes. "Are you truly so surprised?"_

_"I never watched the living world closely… but surely I would have noticed that…" _

_"Most did not. Gaius did."_

_"Gaius always did know more than us." Uther smiled, reflecting on their days of youth. The king only rarely showed appreciation for the old physician, but Gaius had probably saved the kingdom equally as often as the knights– if not more._

_"Uther." Balinor interrupted the deceased king, who was lost in memories. "I don't forgive easily, these days…"_

_"It took me a long time as well. But –surely– you have had more time to think of the consequences of our actions than I."_

_"Perhaps, but I have always been slower to forgive… always. But–"_

_"But?"_

_"I too have suffered from these – years – it may be time to move on. Our sons, after all, did long ago." With a hint of a smile in his voice, Balinor continued. "I will forgive you, eventually. I know that. But for now, leave… my king. Please." The Dragonlord could feel in his heart that he would not be able to hate Uther for long – that hatred was fading quickly, eased by Ygraine's words to him earlier, and the memories of his childhood with the king and queen as his closest friends. _

_Uther heard the barely audible words, _"_my king"._ _Balinor had chosen to forgive him after all, it would seem… and it was understandable that he needed time. Uther, too, had needed time to realize that magic was not all evil– even if he had known that when he was young. He saw, at last, how he had been corrupted by anger and grief in the years following Ygraine's death; but that realization had taken nearly a year. Balinor had been in Avalon for longer than Uther, but the Dragonlord had suffered many more grievances, both in life and death. With this understood, Uther smiled at Balinor, his eyes full of sorrow and comprehension. "Lord Balinor." The Dragonlord bowed his head to the king, for just an instant– but in that movement, Uther recognized the signs… that everything between them was beginning to heal._

_"My lord." Balinor moved away after bowing his head to the king, needing time to himself. Desperately, in fact… forgiving was healing, but still difficult– especially when Uther was involved. _


End file.
